Chasing Butterflies- Ryden

✿ 6 ✿

--Ryan--

Its Monday. Mondays are okay, I guess. I'm not Garfield the Cat. I don't hate Mondays. I feel neutral about Mondays.

Mondays end the weekend. Mondays mean that I have to go back to school. But Mondays mean that I get to see my friends. They also mean that I get to see Brendon.

Brendon.

He's just so..

Wow.

And I'm just so..

Eh.

I get up out of my bed and go into the restroom. I stare at my reflection in the mirror. The skin around my eyes is still a little puffy, my lips are chapped, and my eyes are bloodshot.

I look ugly.

I twist the knob of the shower, setting it to a warm temperature. I like the feeling of warm water hitting my body. Before stepping in, I take off all of my clothes.

My body is weird. My hands are too bony and they look like Jack Skellington hands. My body is skinny and lanky and too long.

I grab the shampoo bottle and lather the soap in my hair, washing every strand of it. I especially don't like my hair. It grows like fancy flowers, because it grows nowhere. After the shampoo washes out, I grab my sponge and douse it in body wash. I scrub myself, washing away all the dirt.

My thoughts wander to my dad. He got his stomach pumped and he's alive, but what if it happens again? What if he doesn't survive?

The soap washes away and I turn off the shower. I step out, wrapping myself in a soft white towel.

I open the door to enter my bedroom, and a wild Brendon sitting on my bed.

"What the fuck?" I yell, almost dropping my towel.

"I got bored, and your window was unlocked. Sorry." He gives a small smile, "Also, I saw the good stuff."

"What?!" I shriek.

"I'm just kidding." He laughs.

"Oh, thank god." I place my hand over my chest, "Could you, like, turn around while I get dressed? No peeking though."

He nods and faces the opposite direction. I open my drawer and dress myself in a Green Day shirt and dark skinny jeans. I'm not sure what colour they are. And of course, undergarments.

"Alright, you can look now." I say, and he turns around almost immediately.

"You look good." I'm guessing he wasn't thinking when he said that, because right after, his eyes widened and colour rose to both of our cheeks.

"Thanks, um, you do, too." I say, flashing him a smile.

His cheeks deepen their rosy colour, and he grins. He's dressed in a tight red shirt and black skinny jeans.

Brendon stares at the ceiling, tapping his fingers against my bed while I mess with my hair. After a couple of minutes, it was back to its normal state.

"Would you like to come downstairs, m'lady?" I ask in a faux British accent, hooking my arm out.

"Why, yes, thank you very much." He replies in his British accent, lacing his arm through mine.

We awkwardly walk downstairs, our arms still laced together, and my mom looks confused.

"When did he arrive?" She asks.

"He came through the front door. Didn't you notice?" I say, feeding her the lie.

"He did? I must be getting old." She chuckles lightly and hands me my backpack.